hin the
looming shadows of the western shore, and seemed to be moving downward
more swiftly with the current, as though the controlling mind in the
darkened wheelhouse felt confident of clear water ahead. The decks
throbbed to the increased pulsation of the engine, and I could plainly
hear the continuous splash of the great stern wheel as it flung spray
high into the air.

I paused a moment, hand gripping the rail, and eyes seeking vainly to
peer across the wide expanse of river, really fronting the situation
for the first time, and endeavoring to think out calmly some definite
course of action. Thus far, spurred only by necessity, and a sense of
obligation, I had merely been blindly grasping at the first suggestion
which had occurred to mind. The emergency had demanded action, rather
than reflection. But now, on cooler consideration, and alone, the
result I sought did not appear so apparent, nor so easily attained.
Hitherto, in the midst of the excitement occasioned by Beaucaire's
tragic death, my mind had grasped but one idea clearly--if I permitted
Kirby to be mobbed and killed by those enraged men, his death would
benefit no one; would remedy no wrong. That mad mob spirit must be
fought down, conquered. Yet now, when I had actually accomplished
this, what must be my next step? Nothing less potent than either fear,
or force, would ever make Kirby disgorge. Quite evidently the gambler
had deliberately set out to ruin the planter, to rob him of every
dollar. Even at the last moment he had coldly insisted on receiving a
bill of sale so worded as to leave no possible loophole. He demanded
all. The death of the Judge, of course, had not been contemplated, but
this in no way changed the result. That was an accident, yet, I
imagined, might not be altogether unwelcome, and I could not rid my
memory of that shining weapon in Kirby's hand, or the thought that he
would have used it had the need arose. Would he not then fight just as
fiercely to keep, as he had, to gain? Indeed, I had but one fact upon
which I might hope to base action--every watcher believed those cards
had been stacked, and that Beaucaire was robbed by means of a trick.
Yet, could this be proven? Would any one of those men actually swear
that he had seen a suspicious move? If not, then what was there left
me except a mere bluff? Absolutely nothing.

Gambling was a recognized institution, with which even the law did not
interfere. Of course